


Sickness

by FleetSparrow



Series: Story a Day in May 2018 [14]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Dick wakes up to the worst migraine he's ever had.





	Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> Day 14 of Story a Day in May. Prompt: MICE Quotient
> 
> This was just a way to write out what happened to me when fibro hit me. It went pretty much just like this.

Dick woke up one morning with a sudden migraine and a deep exhaustion. Bone tiredness. He struggled to get up out of bed, but his covers felt like a hundred pounds of weight resting on him. With all his strength, he pushed them off of him. He laid there, now chilled, and wondered what was wrong. Everything had been fine the night before. Sure, he'd been tired after patrol, but that wasn't anything unusual.

Breathing hard, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, nearly going with them as he did. He sat up and immediately laid back down. His head was throbbing like nothing he'd ever felt before. With another effort, and his eyes shut, Dick sat up again and was able to stay upright. He opened his eyes and made his way to the living room of his apartment.

The light seared his eyes and he hissed, holding his hand up to cover them. His head throbbed worse and his exhaustion doubled. He had to get something to eat. Something that would give him a little bit of sugar, and then he'd go back to bed. He'd call into work from there.

Grabbing a granola bar from the kitchen and his cell phone from the table, Dick lurched back towards his bedroom. His phone told him he was already late to work. He fell to his knees beside the bed and rested his head against it.

"I can't make it today," he whispered into the phone.

"You sound like shit, Grayson," said the voice on the other end. "Don't bring it in."

"Yes, sir."

He dropped the phone beside him, tears welling in his eyes from the pain in his head and the exhaustion in his body. Something was terribly wrong. For the first time in a long time, he felt scared. Actually scared. Like a little child, he wanted assurance that he was going to be OK. He picked up his phone and called home.

"Wayne residence."

"Alfred. It's Dick."

"Master Dick? Please speak up."

"I can't, Alfie. I feel like I'm dying."

"I'll have a car out to you in a moment. Stay in bed."

"Thanks, Alfred."

"Do you... Do you want Master Bruce to come get you?"

Dick nodded. Big mistake. He groaned. "Yeah."

"Very well. Stay where you are. We'l be there shortly."

"OK."

He hung up and, grabbing his bar and his phone, pulled himself up onto the bed. Immediately, he curled the blankets over him once more, shivering as the cool top sheet hit him. He turned on his electric blanket for warmth he felt far too quickly. Nibbling on his granola bar, he tried to breathe calmly. He only succeeded in almost hyperventilating himself. He curled up on his side, burying himself under the blankets.

The pain was so great even the exhaustion couldn't carry him off to sleep. He laid there, head throbbing, eyes shut, praying for Bruce to get there soon. Every noise he heard, he was sure was Bruce. He didn't know how many times he'd opened his eyes and looked out, only for no one to be there. He felt sick to his stomach; maybe the granola bar hadn't been a good idea. He was too hot, but his head was too cold, and neither way felt better to him.

Finally, he heard his door open.

"Dick?"

Dick winced at the volume of Bruce's voice. "In here."

Bruce came into the bedroom and sat on the bed, concern written on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Whisper."

"What's wrong," Bruce repeated, lowering his voice.

"My head. And I'm so tired."

Bruce carefully unwound the covers from around him. "Come on. Let's get you home."

Dick grabbed his darkest sunglasses and let Bruce lead him through the apartment and out the door. The light of the sun was intense on Dick's eyes, and he tucked his head against Bruce, trying to block out the light. Bruce picked him up and carried him downstairs out to the car. The car, thankfully, had darkly tinted windows, and Dick's headache abated just a little.

"What is this?" Dick asked, knowing Bruce wouldn't have an answer.

"We'll find out," Bruce said, starting the car.

"It's more than just a migraine," Dick said. "I've had those before. I know what they're like. This is like the worst headache I've ever had."

"We'll run some tests when you're home," Bruce said, putting a little extra pressure on the gas. "We'll find out what's wrong."

Dick, sure that Bruce would find out, curled up in his seat and closed his eyes. The sun was still coming in, but he had at least forty-five minutes to doze before they got home, where blackout curtains and a soft bed awaited him.


End file.
